


The Beat of Your Heart

by LdotRage (ObliviousInsomniac)



Series: ZeLink Week 2017 [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Near Death Experiences, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 22:39:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9261131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliviousInsomniac/pseuds/LdotRage
Summary: ZeLink Week Day 1: The Beat of Your HeartImpa had warned her not to get attached. But how could she stop herself when the Goddesses' hero was both incredibly cute and incredibly danger-prone?





	

**Author's Note:**

> S HIT IT'S ALMOST MIDNIGHT  
> NO PROOFREADING WE DIE LIKE MEN  
> ALSO SHEIK IS JUST ZELDA IN DISGUISE IN THIS O O P S

****_Keep away from Link,_ she had been told. _Guide him, but don’t get too close. Don’t let him get attached. And, whatever you do, don’t get attached yourself._

It was hard sometimes.

Maybe it would have been easier if Link was some arrogant, holier-than-thou, pompous rich kid. After all, most of the future suitors she’d been introduced to as a child were convinced that they were worthy of the Triforce’s power. Why couldn’t the Goddesses have chosen one of them? It would be so much easier to keep her emotions in check if she couldn’t stand their chosen hero.

But… that wasn’t Link. He wasn’t prideful in any sense of the word. If anything, he could stand to be a bit more sure of himself. When it really came down to it, he never hesitated―he was no coward―but she could see the skepticism in his face every time someone told him that he was the hero; that he was the chosen one; that he was worthy of wielding the Master Sword.

And it was endearing. Even though she should have been critical of it, she couldn’t help herself from smiling a bit under her mask whenever he blushed bright red and demurred from a well-earned compliment, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. After all, she’d grown up surrounded by massive egos that constantly yearned to be stroked, so Link’s awkwardness was refreshing, in a way.

It _shouldn’t_ have been, because she was supposed to be staying _distant_ and _detached_ and _objective._

But it was hard sometimes.

And now was one of those times.

Sure, Link was often injured. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence. Especially when he was coming from temples; rigorous tests of his mettle filled with deadly traps and monsters. It was only natural that he’d get some scrapes and bruises along the way. Usually, all it would take to heal them would be a fairy or some Red Potion, so it was no use worrying about him.

So, when a familiar green speck began to emerge from the depths of the Shadow Temple, her first thought wasn’t to survey him for injuries. Her first thought was to leap across the graveyard and find a perch where she could observe without being seen, just as Impa had taught her _(Guide him, but don’t get too close. Don’t get attached)_. She wasn’t going to teach him the Requiem of Spirit just yet, but she wanted to at least congratulate him for a job well done. That much, Impa surely couldn’t be mad at her for.

_(‘Impa’s gone, now,’ she reminded herself. ‘Impa is the Sage of Shadow. You won’t be seeing her again.’)_

_(‘Oh, yeah,’ she responded, as if there was actually another person there, and she pretended that her heart didn’t sink.)_

As usual, she heard his fairy before she heard him. The bright periwinkle ball of light―Navi, if she wasn’t mistaken, although the two rarely spoke to each other―was flying in frantic circles around his head, chattering. Her voice sounded like the shrill ringing of jingle bells from a distance, and it was impossible to make out the words.

Link, for once, didn’t seem to be listening, though. Gaze fixed on the ground, he shuffled along wordlessly, whereas he usually glanced up at his fairy to reassure her that he was listening. Now that she was looking, he also looked more weary in general, his shoulders slumped and his back hunched. Something was definitely wrong.

Frowning, Zelda― _no, no, Sheik_ ―leaped down from her hiding place and landed behind him with nary a rustle of cloth.

Navi was the first to notice her, which was new. As silent as she had learned to be during her training with Impa, Link wasn’t a chosen hero for nothing; he was usually able to detect her presence after a moment, at which point he’d pause, then whirl around, grabbing the hilt of his sword. Not this time, though.

She tried not to be too worried about that.

“Link!” Navi cried when he didn’t notice Sheik’s arrival. “Come _on!_ Aren’t your paying _attention?_ Turn around! Turn around!”

That struck Zelda as unfair—it was literally her job to not be noticed; Link was not in the wrong—but Sheik didn’t say a word. She merely lifted her chin and strode forward, confident as ever, until she was several paces away from them. Close enough to speak without raising her voice, but far enough to provide an easy getaway if necessary (he had been getting more persistent when he pursued her at the end of their meetings. _Don’t let him get attached,_ Impa whispered in the back of her mind).

Link still hadn’t turned around.

Sheik’s frown deepened, and she could feel her brow crease. Vaguely, she wondered if the concern showed through her mask. “Link,” she said after a moment. Her voice came out deep, smooth, and androgynous; Impa’s disguise spell was thorough. “You have done well. The Temple has been cleansed. Now, you have only one more Medallion to collect.”

This one would hardly be easy to get—she somewhat doubted Nabooru the Gerudo would be very cooperative—but he didn’t need to know that yet.

Finally, he responded, but it was a slow thing. His aimless shambling ceased, and, sluggishly, he turned around, not bothering to reach for his sword.

Sheik froze.

Link was usually injured. Link was wounded more often than not. The last time she’d seen him in perfect condition had been seven years ago, when he’d been standing outside the castle gates, and she’d barely seen him from atop a charging horse, clinging to Impa and tossing the Ocarina of Time blindly over her shoulder.

But… this was a whole other level.

The entire left side of his face was one big bruise, puffy and swollen. His lip was split, and a long gash cut its way from his right temple to the bridge of his nose, bleeding profusely. Although it was unnoticable from the back, most of his green tunic was practically in tatters, the bloodstained shreds that remained hanging loosely off his gaunt frame. As she stared in horror, he slowly looked up, meeting her gaze with lifeless, unseeing eyes.

He looked like he could drop dead at any minute.

“Sheik!” Navi screeched, and this time it wasn’t hard to detect the note of desperation in her voice. “Tell this moron he needs to use a fairy!”

Finally, Link’s eyes came into focus. A hint of recognition flashed through his otherwise vacant expression, although it didn’t seem like he’d heard Navi at all. “Sh-Sheik?” His voice sounded almost as weak as he looked; wavering and pitching like a boat in a violent tide.

Sheik opened her mouth, but no words came out. Some distant part of her was aware that her eyes were wide and horrified, her entire body tense and radiating worry. But Link didn’t seem bothered, because his scrunched-up expression smoothed out ever-so-slightly when he saw her. “Sheik,” he repeated faintly, taking a single step forward, starting to stretch out his hand―

―and collapsing onto the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, letting out only a soft wheeze to betray his pain. Navi shrieked, immediately following him down to careen in quick circles around his head. “Link! _Link!”_

_Don’t get too close. Don’t let him get attached. Don’t get attached yourself._

Sheik surged forward, already reaching for the bright blue vial resting at her hip.

By the time she reached him, he was already trying to right himself, pushing his beaten body off the ground with trembling hands. It occurred to Sheik that she should scold him for overexerting himself when he was clearly injured, but it also occurred to her that lying face-down in the dirt was a good way to get all of his wounds infected at once, so she let it slide.

He didn’t react when she flipped him onto his back, sliding her legs under him to keep his open wounds away from the dirt. Instead, he allowed himself to be manhandled into her lap, squinting up at her. She could tell that the sun was starting to rise behind her head, because he immediately groaned and turned away, raising one hand in an aborted attempt to shield his eyes from the light.

(It was probably dark in the Shadow Temple, she thought.)

(She swore in her head, and then she swore out loud.)

“Link, hold still,” Sheik said; he barely acknowledged her, but obediently dropped his arms back down to his sides. “Navi, stay back and don’t get in the way.” The fairy made a very indignant _ding_ like that of a church bell, but reluctantly acquiesced. Taking a deep breath, Sheik steadied herself, hastily scanning Link’s limp form.

Alright. Alright.

This, she could do.

Stripping off his tunic and undershirt, she prodded his chest to check for broken ribs, trying to ignore the blood for now. The results were less than pleasing. It was a miracle none of those ribs had punctured a lung, although he would be dead by now if it had. “Dammit, Link,” she muttered as she pulled the blue vial off her hip. _Emergencies only,_ Impa had instructed her, and this was an emergency if there ever was one. “How did you even make it this far?”

Popping off the cork, she swirled it in her fingers a moment, letting the thick, gelatinous liquid inside sloosh about. It sounded fresh enough to still be potent. Reaching up to brush his matted bangs out of his face, she lifted Link’s head and put the edge of the vial to his lips.

Automatically, his jaw fell open, and she made a vague noise of approval deep within her chest. The second he saw the vial, though, he grunted in protest, turning his head aside. “Can’ drink,” he muttered, then coughed harshly, his entire body seizing.

Sheik scowled. “Why _not?”_

Link’s eyes closed, but she could still see the embarrassment in his face. “S’yours.”

Exhaling harshly through her nose, she reached down and grabbed his chin, jerking his face back into place. “Now is _not_ the time for good manners, Link,” she snapped, fist clenching around the vial. “You’re going to _die.”_

Link hummed softly, casually, and she wasn’t sure if it was agreement or denial, but, either way, it made her chest ache. “M’fine.” His eyelids fluttered shut and he smiled a little, although it was weak. “Doesn’ hurt,” he slurred, blood dribbling out from the corner of his mouth.

 _“Don’t.”_ Sheik snapped, rare anger clouding her voice. By now, her hands were shaking, but she didn’t know and didn’t care whether it was from the adrenaline or the fear. “Don’t act tough.”

Link frowned. “M’not,” he murmured, cracking his eyes open; he looked genuinely hurt by the harsh accusation, and Sheik choked back a humorless laugh. “Really doesn’ hurt. Can’ feel it.” His eyes drifted shut, and his head flopped to the side, as if his neck simply couldn’t support it anymore. “Can’ feel _nothin’,”_ he breathed, and it was probably meant to reassure her, but Sheik only grew more panicked.

With a sharp jerk of her arms, Link’s head was propped up again. This time, his lips parted without his consent in a quiet groan, but she took the opportunity to tip back the vial and shake it into his mouth. With a wet _squelch,_ the Chu jelly plopped onto his tongue, and she quickly tilted his chin back slightly, holding it in place. “Don’t swallow,” she instructed sharply, and she could see his throat muscles relax as he complied. “Just let it go down on its own.”

Easier said than done. When the jelly began sliding down his throat, he choked momentarily, and she quickly pinched his nose shut and pressed her palm over his mouth, pressing the back of his head against her knee to hold him still. For a moment, he flailed in a blind panic, but his body was weak and his limbs heavy, and soon the fit was over. As soon as he stopped choking and let the jelly go down, Sheik released his nose and he sucked in a much-needed breath, but she kept her other hand plastered over his mouth.

High-quality, purified Blue Chu Jelly was much stronger than a regular Blue Potion, but also much slower-acting. The potions derived from Chu jelly were diluted, but the added water helped them move through the body almost instantaneously. Pure jelly did no such thing. With that in mind, Sheik quickly pulled out some bandages from her own store and began to wrap the worst of Link’s wounds. It wouldn’t do to have him bleed out before the jelly could even take effect.

(Hyrule couldn’t afford to lose him.)

(She couldn’t stand to lose him.)

She could pinpoint the exact moment the jelly began to work, because Link immediately moaned in sudden pain, trying to fold in on himself. Biting her cheek, Sheik pressed her forearm carefully to his chest and stretched him back out, keeping his mouth covered. “What are you doing?” Navi demanded, zipping closer and hovering over Link’s furrowed brow. “You’re hurting him! Stop!”

“It’s just the medicine.” In any other situation, she might have been irritated, but now she was too drained to feel anything other than exhaustion and pity for the boy in her arms.

(Because that was what he was; a boy, only 11 years old; snatched without warning from his old life and shoved into a new, large body and told that it was his destiny to save the world.)

(At least she had been given training.)

Luckily, she didn’t have to worry about cleaning the wounds. Not all healing substances could boast the same, but Blue Chu Jelly would destroy any infections like they were nothing. Anything short of fatal poison in Link’s wounds would be cleared within minutes.

That was when Link’s first rib shot back into place with a _snap_ and he shouted into her hand, writhing under her am.

Navi cried out loudly, rushing forward as if to comfort him, but Sheik only winced and pushed him down tighter, holding him still before he could make the pain worse. Another rib snapped back into place, and Link screamed again, this one louder, muscles spasming. Sheik’s lips pressed tightly together behind her mask.

The unfortunate side effect of using pure jelly instead of a potion.

“It’ll be over soon,” she said as Link squirmed weakly, letting out a muffled yelp every time another wound fixed itself in an instant. She wasn’t sure whether she was trying to reassure Navi, who was ringing angrily in her ear, or Link himself.

Sure enough, within maybe five minutes, the ordeal was over. The last thing to heal was his face, and Sheik stared intently as the skin along his forehead stitched itself back together and the bruise turned from purple to green, then vanished altogether. Even the small scab on his lip vanished, and, unless she was mistaken, his nose looked a bit less crooked than it had before. As the last scrape vanished from his jaw, he whimpered once, then went slack entirely, all his energy gone.

(She couldn’t blame him.)

(Blue Chu Jelly had that effect on people.)

(Pain had that effect on people.)

Navi quickly landed on his forehead, nudging his cheek. “Link?” she squeaked fearfully, her voice even higher than usual. “Link?!”

“He’s probably passed out from the blood loss,” Sheik muttered, pressing two fingers to the crook of his neck. His pulse was a bit weaker than she would have liked, but steady and calm. “He should be fine now, though.”

With some doing, she managed to hoist Link into her arms, although it was rather unruly. Luckily, Impa’s disguise spell left her taller than Link, making things much easier, and the seven years of Sheikah training certainly didn’t hurt. Navi hovered uncertainly by her ear as she walked, talking non-stop; after about fifty “thank you”s and twice as many demands for an apology, she tuned the matronly fairy out, letting her ringing voice become background noise.

Fortunately, most people were in bed at this time in the morning. Unfortunately, Kakariko Village had a disproportionate amount of carpenters, farmers, and other workers who got up at the crack of dawn, so Sheik was forced to stick to the rooftops, making her way across town with Link in her arms and trying not to jostle him in the process, which was no small task. She couldn’t exactly be spotted carrying a shirtless man covered in bloody bandages into Impa’s house, though. People would ask questions.

In a stroke of luck, there was no one guarding Impa’s house for once. She locked the door once inside and carefully sat down on the bed, laying Link down in her lap again.

Luckily, he seemed completely unharmed now. The jelly had done its job. Letting out a breath (how long had she been holding it?), Sheik settled back against the wall before she could think to stop herself, her eyes drooping shut.

He was okay.

He was going to be fine.

Everything was going to be fine.

Now all she had to do was stay with him until he was conscious again, give him the scolding of his life for making her worry so much, and then leave before she got too close.

(Ha!)

(Pretty sure you’re already there, kid.)

(Oh, shut up.)

(How ironic that she was disobeying Impa’s orders on the very day she disappeared, and in her own house.)

Grumbling, Navi alighted on Link’s forehead again and lay down for a nap. Sheik couldn’t help but smile a bit at the sight. Although she may claim otherwise, Navi clearly cared about Link more than she let on most of the time, and not just because he was the Goddesses’ hero. Sheik could certainly understand how one might accidentally start caring about him as a person, no matter how hard they tried to view him as a warrior and nothing more.

She looked down at his face, smiling―

―and jumped when she saw Link staring right back up at her, his eyes a bit groggy but much more alert now. Navi was already asleep on his forehead.

“Link,” she said hastily after a moment when she realized that she was just staring dumbly, and only partially because of the surprise. Honestly, it was mostly because Link’s eyes were _cute._ He really had become handsome over the past seven years, she supposed. “I’m glad to see you’re awake.” In the back of her mind, she knew she was supposed to be chewing him out, but she looked into his tired eyes and couldn’t bear to. “How are you feeling?” she asked instead.

A minute passed. Link slowly raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side in amusement. Sheik’s own brow furrowed, and he smiled; she knew because she could feel his lips moving.

Only then did she realize that her palm was still pressed firmly over his mouth, preventing him from answering her question if he wanted to.

Wincing― _‘Smooth, O Great Princess Zelda; your charms are truly irresistible.’_ ―she hastily released him, and his smile widened. “M’fine,” he muttered, and, although he still sounded bone-tired, she was a bit more inclined to believe him this time. His eyes closed again, and he shifted. “Thanks,” he added after a second. “You saved me.”

Seven years ago, she might have taken a page out of Link’s book and blushed bright red, hastening to assure him that she hadn’t done anything, really; it was fine; he needn’t thank her. But, now, she just nodded in acceptance, taking it for the gratitude and half-apology it was. “Be more careful next time,” she tacked on as a side note, and he hummed quietly in agreement.

Sheik looked down at him as he turned onto his side, nuzzling into the quilt under his head―Navi tumbled off her perch and grumbled before immediately falling back to sleep―and was suddenly acutely aware that he was shirtless and laying across her lap. Somehow, it took her longer to realize that his hand was set gently on top of hers―and that she was lightly gripping it back.

Her pulse was racing; she could feel it in her neck. Swallowing thickly, she carefully extracted her hand from his; he gave a little plaintive murmur, but didn’t stir.

_Don’t get too close. Don’t let him get attached. Don’t get attached yourself._

_Guide, but don’t get too close._

She should go. She should wait until he’s asleep and then slip away, leaving him to wake up without her in the morning. She should make her way to the Gerudo Desert to wait for him; she should practice the Requiem of Spirit a few times to make sure she was ready to teach it to him when the time came.

She should really go.

But, even as Impa’s voice echoed in her brain, reminding her to _guide, guide,_ guide, _but don’t get too close,_ Sheik lay back on Impa’s bed and tugged Link the rest of the way into her arms, hugging him gently to her chest.

(It was a little too late to keep from getting attached, anyway.)

(Impa could probably forgive her this time.)

Link hummed again, shifting to wrap his arms around her, and Princess Zelda, the picture of propriety, probably would have been embarrassed, but Sheik just closed her eyes and accepted the affection, almost sinking into it. After being in the heat of battle; after her too-passionate speech about friendship after teaching him the Bolero of Fire; after dragging him back from the brink of death… she honestly didn’t have it in herself to be ashamed of their embrace, no matter how taboo.

“...I can hear it.”

She startled a bit at Link’s voice, eyes snapping back open. He sounded completely lucid, this time, as if he wasn’t two seconds from falling asleep. Even when he hadn’t just been on the brink of death, his voice was usually raspy from underuse, but somehow that scratchy edge was gone, now.

Something about this moment felt… sacred, in a way she couldn’t quite describe. Maybe it was the silence of the house. Maybe it was the sleeping fairy that would surely force them to break apart if she woke up. Maybe it was just the fact that Link still felt fragile, even though he was muscle-bound and fully healed; still felt like he was a breath or two away from fainting. Whatever the case, Sheik scarcely dared to breathe for fear of breaking the feeling that was hanging heavily around them, thick enough to cut with a knife.

“You can hear what?” she breathed when no clarification seemed forthcoming, tightening her grip on him subconsciously.

A soft chuckle. Link glanced up at her, eyes half-lidded and heavy with sleep, but not quite flickering.

“Your heartbeat.” He was just as quiet, but the words roared in her ears. Her face heated up, and, in that moment, she was infinitely thankful that she only blushed in her cheeks, which were covered by her mask. “I can hear it.”

His eyes closed again, and only then did she realize that his ear was, indeed, pressed to her chest directly over her heart. With a soft hum, he shifted to settle more comfortably in her arms, but made no move to take his ear off of her chest.

“It’s nice,” he whispered slowly, his voice trailing off as he drifted into sleep.

Sheik couldn’t help it. Even as her own heartbeat sped up, and her face reddened, and she wondered again if she should _really_ be cuddling the Goddesses’ hero, she closed her eyes, slid down to lay her head at the base of Link’s neck, and listened.

It was to the slow, steady _thump, thump, thump_ of Link’s heartbeat that she slowly fell asleep.

(For the first time in a while, she didn’t have nightmares.)

(She just dreamed about a slow, steady _thump, thump, thump.)_


End file.
